


Long Live The Pioneers

by skyline



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Team Dynamics, bad language, everybody antagonizes Rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rip Hunter is not a mediator. </p><p>Or a babysitter. </p><p>He just wants the property damage to end, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live The Pioneers

**Author's Note:**

> So, what I reeeeeeally want is to write something longer and steamier and possibly with some love triangle angles involving Rip, but since I just moved/started a new job and also I can't seem to concentrate long enough to write anything, this will have to do.
> 
> *Oh, uh. Also I hadn't finished the second episode when I wrote this, and I just have, so let's just say this operates on the presumption that either it takes place before episode two culminates or when Carter inevitably comes back.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not your babysitter.”

Eight pairs of eyes stare blankly back at Rip.

He sighs and resists the urge to cross his arms. He refuses to be cowed by this group of infants. Time masters aren’t spineless. Time masters are adventurers. They’re the _best kind_ of vertebrates, damnit.

Squaring his shoulders, he forges on, “I’m not your babysitter, and I’m not interested in mediating you lot every time you squabble.”

Which is every minute, basically.

“Learn to work out your problems on your own,” he adds, because too much clarification never hurt anyone.

“Or what?” Leonard lifts an eyebrow, because the man invented the concept of impetuosity.

Two can play at that game. “ _Or_ I shove you out an airlock.”

“This ship doesn’t have airlocks,” Ray objects. Of fucking course he does. “That implies they work on a pressurized-“

“Moving on,” Rip clears his throat pointedly. “New ship rules! No punching. No hitting. No kicking. No scratching. No hair pulling.” Here, he glances at Martin, because the man is not above making himself look like a child. “No weapons, of any kind.”

“That’s no fun,” Sara mutters.

Mick fist bumps her. Rip isn’t sure whether he’s supposed to have seen it.

“No tampering with the ship’s systems.” He frowns scarily at Doctors Palmer and Stein, and Mick, just for good measure.

His scary frown used to work quite well on his son. It does absolutely nothing here, as all three of them lean back in their chairs and give every appearance of being very, very bored.

Rip sighs, “And for god’s sake, please, please, no more yelling at all hours of the night. The walls are very thin, and I’m beginning to get bags.” He runs his index fingers along the hollows under his eyes for emphasis. “It’s not a good look.”

Jefferson shrugs his agreement. Nobody else even blinks. Ingrates, every one of them.

“I don’t see how any of that applied to us,” Kendra announces, gesturing between herself and Carter.

The latter’s lips twitch benevolently and he doesn’t say anything, like his smug little grin isn’t response enough. Rip’s hackles rise.

He’s saved from answering by Leonard, who murmurs, “You two need to quit holding your reincarnation pow wows in public places. If I have to hear you kumbaya about the good old days in the hallway, I might rush you onto the next life.”

He strokes his gun threateningly, but mostly it looks like he’s petting a cat. Rip shakes his head despairing of all of this.

Sara, though, she agrees. In her own unique, bordering on rude manner. “Get marriage counseling or get a room, but either way, leave the rest of us out of it.”

“I’d love to go to my room.” Kendra huffs, jabbing a thumb to her left. “If it wasn’t next to that asshole’s.”

“What did I do?” Ray demands, holding his hands up like he can ward off Kendra’s accusation. “I’m the perfect neighbor.”

He smiles a boy scout smile that begs anyone to contradict him.

“Here that?” Mick asks, nudging Leonard. “Pretty boy thinks we should come by, borrow a cup of sugar.”

“It’s sweet that you think I’m pretty,” Ray retorts, smirking.

Rip slumps. This team meeting, like most team meetings, is spiraling out of his control. He can feel the group tugging the reigns of it, right from his time masterly hands. Fuck.

“You,” Kendra declares, “Are loud. When you’re not banging around with your future gizmos and whatsits, you’re singing show tunes. I’ve got news, Palmer. You can’t sing!”

Leonard snickers his agreement. Rip notices that Martin and Jefferson and Sara are all nodding along.

Kendra barrels on, “And that’s not the worst of it. You know I can hear it when you’re-“ Her face colors a little, but she bites out, “Getting busy with him, right?”

“Fucking. The word you’re looking for is fucking.” Leonard supplies, ever helpful and completely unabashed.

Rip’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. That there was not a thing he knew. Gideon’s slacking on the gossip.

Ray’s mouth drops open. Then he closes it again. Then he says, “Okay. I guess I am loud.”

Leonard snorts. “Not as much as I’d like.”

Ray grits out, “I meant in general.”

“We can talk about that later, honey bun.” Leonard deadpans. He cuts his eyes insolently towards Rip. “I want to revisit the no weapons rule. You’re aware that’s not ever going to happen, correct?”

“I-“

Martin cuts Rip off. “And when you say no tampering with the ship, does that include Gideon?” Jefferson pokes him, and he tacks on, “I’m asking for science.”

Rip can feel his eyes bulging out of his head. “I-“

“Yeah,” Sara says, flashing her teeth. “And what qualifies as night, anyway? I’m an assassin, I keep different hours.”

“We don’t need marriage counselling,” Kendra tells Sara, apropos of nothing, because they have so moved on from that part of the conversation. “We’re not even married.”

Sara squints at Carter. “I’d ask if that means he’s up for grabs, but my type usually has a brain bigger than a bird’s.”

Carter starts to climb out of his chair, and Sara is on her feet in seconds, answering the challenge. Rip throws his hand up in the air and yells, “Fine. Fine! Do what you want! Tear each other apart, for all I care, you ridiculous _children_!”

He marches out of the cockpit, ready to retreat into his own room with a book and some tea and some nice, soothing, noise-cancelling ear plugs.

Over the sound of Sara and Carter already clashing, he vaguely makes out the sounds of the rest, devolving into anarchy. Then, in a startling moment of clarity, two voices rise above the chaos.

It’s Leonard and Ray, who chorus, “Does that mean you’re up for a threesome?”

“I hate them. I hate them, and I want to strangle them all,” Rip tells the walls.

If Gideon has anything to say, she keeps it to herself.


End file.
